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Juliana must be up by now. She never slept in. He half doubted she was capable of such a thing.
Certain she would be dressed and ready for the day, he slunk into his robe and barged into her room.
“Jules, my fair vixen, how was your sexual debut—”
He froze immediately. Jules was still in bed, Dillon’s arm flung around her, her bare, perfect back littered with fresh bruises.
The rest of the room narrowed. The vines pulsed beneath his fury, screaming down Juliana’s bedposts and going straight for Dillon.
He let out a thick cry, springing from the bed as they clawed at his body, thrusting him against the wall, winding towards his throat.
“What did you do to her?” Hawthorn’s voice twisted out of him, sounding like another person’s entirely.
“Hawthorn!” Juliana hissed, leaping from the bed. She tugged uselessly at the vines surrounding Dillon. “Let him go!”
“He hurt you!”
“What?” Juliana hesitated, and her eyes darted towards the mirror in the corner. “Oh, oh, no… It isn’t what it looks like. Put him down, please.”
At her steady tone, his anger rescinded, replaced by stark bewilderment. What had just happened? What was hedoing?
He dropped the vines. Dillon hit the floor, grabbing his clothes and vanishing into the hallway.
Juliana turned back to Hawthorn.
“Did he give you those bruises?” he asked. “If not, tell me who did, so I may have them flayed.”
“Um, see…” Juliana’s eyes spun everywhere but him. “Hedidgive them to me—”
“Then—” He made a move to follow him, but Juliana’s hand pressed against his chest. His skin barked underneath hers, his fury tempered.
“I asked him to,” she admitted, voice quiet. “Sort of.”
“Sort of?”
“So… it turns out I rather like it rough?”
No words escaped Hawthorn in that moment, but his mouth opened in a wide ‘o’. He coughed, and Juliana’s hand dropped away. She crossed the room to pull on a shirt.
He’d be so angry he’d barely even noticed she was naked.
“I apologise,” he said eventually, when she was fully covered, trying to avoid the way the cloth clung to her curves.
“I think Dillon needs the apology more than I.” She chewed her lip. “You don’t need to fight my battles for me. I’m more than capable of looking out for myself. You think I would have let him stay if he hurt me?”
Honestly, I didn’t think at all,was his first response. He was known for being thoughtless, but that—that was something else.
“Well, I am a bit reckless and impulsive, or so they say.” He wanted to tell her he’d never do it again, but he knew that would be a lie. That if anyone ever hurt her— “I shall endeavour to take better care in future, and will apologise to Dillon the first chance I get.”
“Do so,” she hissed. “Now get out. I want to get dressed in peace.”
Juliana didn’t see Dillon for the rest of the day, which wasn’t unusual but felt wrong, somehow, given what had passed between them. She’d wanted it to just be a fun, physical thing, like sparring, but she’d be lying if she said things didn’t feel different between them, now. Did she want it to happen again? What did she wanthimto want?
It didn’t help that Hawthorn was being disturbingly mute to make up for the embarrassment of the morning. He barely said a word to her all day. Had things altered between them as well? She couldn’t shake the strange, dark expression in his eyes when he’d found them together. No cruelty, only a cold fury she’d never once witnessed before.
He reminded her of Maytree, of the power that curled around her like a shadow, the dark radiance that made mortals surrender.
But there was another part that wasn’t like Maytree at all, that was so clearlyHawthorn,and the colossal echo of the king he would one day be.
